


The Morning After

by zoemargaret



Series: Manager Verse [7]
Category: Football RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemargaret/pseuds/zoemargaret





	The Morning After

Pep stumbles into the kitchen, yawning. "Bojan," he he asks as he scrubs his hand over his scalp, trying his best to wake up. "What in God's name are you doing?"

 Bojan jumps at his voice and turns around, eyes wide. "Pep! You scared me." He moves as Pep comes closer, shielding whatever he's doing at the stove from Pep's eyes.

 Pep raises his eyebrows. The kitchen is a mess, bowls and utensils scattered about the counter top, all messy. Pep brings his hand to his mouth to hide the curve of his lips; Bojan looks too adorable for Pep to tease him. So he just asks, "Having some trouble?"

 Bojan pauses, all indecision and mounting embarrassment. He struggles between admitting he's in over his head or bluffing; Pep gives him time to make up his mind. All at once, Bojan relaxes, all tension flowing away. "Yes," he admits, with only a faint blush betraying his embarrassment. He steps aside so Pep can assess the damage. It's considerable, and Pep can't help a small chuckle. Bojan ducks his head and peers up through his eyelashes, not even bothering to hide his attempt to manipulate.. "I wanted to make you breakfast," he says with just a hint of petulance. He steps closer, eyes glinting as he presses his hips into Pep's. "It just...got away from me."

 "I see that," Pep allows, putting his hands on Bojan's hips. "I think it has well and truly escaped." He presses his lips to Bojan's smile, hands still cradling his hips. Bojan tastes of sugar and butter and, endearingly, a faint hint of toothpaste. "You didn't have to do this for me."

 Bojan looks up to protest, but apparently sees something in Pep's face that soothes him. He pulls one of Pep's hand from his hip to his mouth and kisses his fingers. "I just wanted to do something for you," he admits, avoiding Pep's eyes. "But I'm not really a good cook."

 Pep chuckles again and gives Bojan one last swift kiss. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I didn't learn to cook until I lived on my own." Using his hand still on the curve of Bojan's hip, he guides him against his body so Pep can move closer to the stove. "Let me see. Torrijas?" He taps his finger on his lips, frowning. "I think I can rescue this. Do you a bigger frying pan?"

 Ten minutes later, he's put together a half decent breakfast and Bojan's cleaned up the kitchen. They sit down, Bojan eating with an enthusiasm that Pep can admit is gratifying. He finishes his last bite, sweet and light on his tongue. "How did you know I liked this?" he asks, curious. "It's not like I ever allow them to serve this at Camp Nou."

 Bojan shrugs, eyes dropping. Even though Pep knows that the innocence is largely feigned, his body still reacts to it. "I guessed. Whenever you order anything sweet, you order this." He ducks his head even more, his faint blush betraying a more genuine embarrassment.

 Pep's stomach twists, not unpleasantly. Bojan is so fucking beautiful like this; Pep wants him with a yearning, burning hunger. Without thought he reaches for the other man and hauls him closer. "I didn't realize you've watched me that closely," he whispers into the other man's ear before nuzzling him. He smells like sweat and cinnamon, with just a hint sex.

 Bojan tilts his head and Pep takes the invitation to nose down his neck, nibbling softly at the tensed cords beneath his lips. Bojan fights down a giggle but Pep hears the sound anyway. He smiles against soft skin before pulling. Bojan tumbles into his lap with a surprised yelp.

"Pep!" he scolds, eyes bright blue with laughter. "I'm not finished with breakfast."

"That's too bad," Pep says. "You were so sweet to try to make me breakfast, I was going to give you a reward. But if you're not finished..." he trails off, fighting down a smile.

Bojan's eyes widen. "What? No, I'm not hungry any-" He cuts himself off. "You're teasing!" he accuses. He pulls himself away from Pep's chest, arms crossed and balancing on Pep's knees.

Pep can't help snorting. At Bojan's frowning pout, he bites his lip to hide his smile. "I'm sorry!"

Bojan sniffs and turns his head, profile glowing in the morning sunlight. Pep catches his breath, a sharp biting joy unfolding in his chest. "You're so..." He stops. He can't find the words. Or rather, he can, but he can't bring himself to speak them.

Bojan turns his head, arms relaxing across his body. His face is...both hopeful and resigned all at once, lips curving in a rueful smile. "Bojan," he sighs. He runs one hand up Bojan's bare back, turning his hand so his nails just graze the skin, relishing the slight give of pale skin beneath his fingers. He drops his forehead to the other man's shoulder, uncertain and _aching_.

Bojan immediately turns his body into his, one hand rising to palm Pep's neck. "Pep," he murmurs. The sound only makes the ache worse and Pep clenches his eyes, fighting for control. Takes one shaky breath then another. He closes his fists on Bojan's hips, but Bojan doesn't complain. "Pep," he repeats, voice stronger. He slips a gentle finger under Pep's chin and tilts his head to meet his eyes. "You mentioned a reward?" His smile is warm and wide and sincere and Pep clutches him tighter, tighter before releasing.

"I suppose I did," he replies, voice far too hoarse for such a question. He swallows hard, forcing the emotion down down down.

Bojan holds his eyes for one last moment, knowing. Then his smile edges into something dangerous, something wanting. "So what do I get?" he asks, arms slipping around Pep's shoulders and tilting his head.

"Anything you want, Kiki," he says.

 That dangerous edge in Bojan's eyes melts and he bites his lower lip, white teeth sinking into pink flesh. "I, umm," he pauses, a blush highlighting his cheeks. Charmed, Pep presses an impulsive kiss against it, searching for a difference in texture, taste. He doesn't find any, but he's happy to keep trying. But, "Pep," Bojan sighs. "I want to touch you."

Pep pulls back and blinks. He'd been expecting something...well, kinkier. "Touch me?' he asks. "You mean, like you're doing now?"

"No!" Bojan huffs.

Pep raises an eyebrow. "Then what?"

Bojan tilts his head, eyes flickering away from Pep's. "I want you naked," he admits. "I want you naked on my bed and I want to touch you. Without you touching me back." He looks at Pep, eyes determined. "I can't think when you touch me," he confesses. "I want to take my time." He traces careful fingers down Pep's throat. "I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Pep is speechless. In lieu of words that he can't find, Pep stands up, hands on Bojan's to control the slide as he spills off his lap. As soon as Bojan's on his feet, Pep lets him go and waits. After a slight pause, Bojan gives a shy smile and reaches for Pep's hand.

Once they're in the bedroom, Bojan lets go of his hand and stops, leaving him in the middle of the room. He slides his hands along Pep's bare chest to rest on the button of his jeans. Biting his lip, he looks up through his eyelashes at Pep and smiles. Excruciatingly slow, he unbuttons then unzips the jeans. Keeping his eyes on Pep's, he pushes them down slowly, hands lingering over hipbones. "Get on the bed," he tells him, voice uncharacteristically hard. However, the effect is ruined with the quiet "Please?" that follows.

Pep smiles and obeys, spreading his arms to the sides. "Like this?"

Bojan stares down at him, a faint flush of arousal touching his chest and neck. "Um, almost. Put your hands above your head." Again, Pep obeys. Looks above him to see a sturdy headboard and without prompting wraps his hands around two of the slats. There's a pleased sound from the foot of the bed and Pep looks back. Bojan pushes down his boxers and steps out of them. Pep has to catch his breath as he starts to harden. Seeing the beauty in front of him, he longs to touch, to stroke every sinful curve. But he keeps his hands still, enjoying the unexpected possessiveness in Bojan's eyes.

Now naked, Bojan crawls onto the bed and settles just below Pep's hips, cock brushing against the hollow of Pep's hip. He sits back and stares, eyes so intense it feels like a caress; Pep shivers in anticipation.

He's rewarded when Bojan leans down and wraps his lips around a nipple. He hisses at the touch and arches into it. Sharp teeth sink into his flesh and Pep instinctively drops a hand to touch his cheek. But as soon as Pep's hand touches his face Bojan pulls away.

"What are you doing?" Pep asks, voice a little too high. He tilts his hips up, trying to push Bojan closer, but the other man merely rides the motion and giggles.

"I told you to keep your hands above your head," he mock-scolds.

"Kiki," Pep whines, but he dutifully puts his hand back where it belongs. "Better?"

Bojan doesn't answer, just drops to the other nipple, licking and nibbling. Pep doesn't know which he likes better, the warm tongue or the sharp teeth; both leave him struggling to control his breathing. Far too soon Bojan pulls away. With another naughty smile, he ducks down and starts a line of biting kisses up Pep's chest to his neck, pausing to rub his soft stubble against Pep's. As Bojan moves higher his cock brushes against Pep's stomach, leaving a streak of wetness. Pep shivers again, unbearably aroused already. "Please, Kiki," he murmurs. Soft lips curve in a smile against his skin and then descend onto his lips, nipping and kissing, stealing his breath away. Pep dedicates himself to kissing back, fighting for control of the kiss. He strokes his tongue into Bojan's mouth, tilting his head and deepening the angle, doing everything he can. But Bojan overwhelms him, all lips and tongue and heat. Pep finally has to surrender, letting his head thump back on the pillow, allowing Bojan to ravish his mouth.

When Bojan finally pulls away, Pep's mouth feels swollen, every puff of air tingling.

Bojan sits up slowly, tilting back his head to expose the long line of his throat. "Fuck, Pep," he says, one hand dropping to stroke his cock. "You're so..." He leans forward and rubs the tip of his cock against Pep's lower stomach, moaning at the sensation. Pep matches the sound, bucking his hips convulsively. Bojan catches his breath and smiles, mouth tilting ruefully. "I wanted to take my time," he complains, "But you make me crazy." He swoops down and Pep tilts his head for another kiss. Bojan obliges with one quick peck, but draws back far too soon. He flourishes a tube of lubricant. "Remember, don't touch," he whispers.

He squeezes the lube over his fingers and rears up on his knees. He hisses sharply and his eyes go glassy with pleasure as he stretches himself. Pep cranes his head to see, but Bojan pushes him down with his other hand. "No touching, Pep," he whispers hoarsely before letting out a strained cry. "Oh fuck." He arches back, hips fucking back onto his fingers. Pep clenches his hands so tightly he feels the joints pop. He's so fucking beautiful like this, seeking his own pleasure without any concern for Pep. He's almost content just to sit back and watch.

But then Bojan pulls out his fingers and leans back. "Hold on," he murmurs. Pep starts to ask something when the head of his cock is engulfed in burninghottightness. He shouts and arches his hips, driving himself deeper. Bojan keens and grinds down to meet him.

As always, pushing into Bojan feels like scoring a goal for La Seleccion, like hoisting a trophy, like nothing else on earth. Every time he does so he feels himself growing more needful, more hungry. He pushes his hands against the bed for leverage and thrusts into Bojan. "Pep!" Bojan wails. "My God, right there, don't _stop_."

He couldn't if he wanted to. Bojan's grinding above him, panting and moaning, hair plastered to his head, sweat dripping down his throat. Pep manages to hitch himself up and thread his fingers through Bojan's hair. He hungrily licks away the sweat as Bojan's moan vibrates against his throat. He can't hold the curl and he sinks back to the bed, pulling Bojan with him, the other man shifting forward to accommodate him. The change in angle makes Bojan sob in pleasure and he clenches around Pep's cock.

"Fuck, Bojan," he grunts. One hand still in Bojan's hair, he slides the other one to his back and claws him closer as he shoves his cock even deeper. Bojan sinks his teeth into Pep's shoulder and spasms around him, gasping against his skin. It's all Pep can take and he finally gives in to that liquid pleasure seething in his veins. Both hands go to Bojan's hips and he palms his ass, holding him still as he fucks into him over and over and over. He turns his face into Bojan's hair and groans as he comes, surrounded by Bojan.

He doesn't pass out, but he does drift off in a daze for a moment. He's brought back to himself by Bojan trying to slide off him. Even though he knows the other man has to hurt, he makes a protesting sound and wraps his arms around his waist, holding him close. "Don't go," he says, perilously close to whining.

"I'm not going anywhere," Bojan reassures him, voice slightly scratchy. "Here, just let me..." He lifts up just enough to pull off of Pep's cock and then snuggles back down, tucking his head beneath Pep's chin with a happy sigh.


End file.
